


Bang A Drum

by dutchmoxie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Smut, drummer! Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dutchmoxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake is the only talented member in his garage band. Clarke Griffin is his sister's best friend. With the immediate attraction between the two of them, they're going to have a lot of trouble keeping this from Octavia. </p>
<p>After all, it's just a stupid fling and Octavia never has to know - so it won't ruin anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaegermighty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/gifts).



> Blame jaegermighty and her post about drummer! Bellamy for this....

_Drumming was the only thing I was ever good at_ – John Bonham

 _I didn’t need to be good at drumming. I just needed to love it_ – Bellamy Blake

 

Bellamy knew they were shit. His band mates were too interested in the drink and the drugs part of the business, not in the rock (and roll). And sure, he liked to indulge in the sex aspect of the lifestyle, but the music always came first.

But he was the only one who seemed to think so, so he was left as the drummer of Arktown’s crappiest garage band. They never got any gigs, never made it out of his garage – mostly the band could barely get themselves together to play a couple songs between booze breaks and Jasper rolling a couple joints. He usually kicked everyone out after an hour or two, choosing complaining to his smartass sister over hearing Monty’s out of tune plucking on his bass.

“I only heard the one song today,” Octavia is on the couch, watching some crap reality TV show. “Well, when I say song, I’m being generous. That was just noise.”

Even though he hates it when his sister gets bratty like this, she has a damn point. There was no melody in that mess, just his airtight drumming – seriously, he’s damn good at it – holding that noise together. Sometimes he comes so close to quitting the entire damn band and kicking them out for good. So damn close.

“Jasper didn’t tune his damn guitar again,” he grabs a Coke from the fridge, trying to keep himself from falling into any more bad habits. “And he brought vodka.”

If he could only stop Jasper from bringing alcohol to their rehearsals – it would mean that their keyboardist could actually play the damn keys for once. Seeing Finn playing while drunk had lost its charm about five years ago. The drugs, the alcohol, that had all failed to hold his interest for at least that long.

He’d grown out of that – he had to, seeing as he had to raise his sister after their parents died. At age nineteen, he had no choice but to drop out of college and find a job that paid well enough to raise a stubborn freshman. He had no money and no time for any of that immature bullshit. Shit, the band was the only thing from before he stayed a part of.

With a groan, he sits down on their crap couch.

“And Monty got Finn drunk again, I assume,” O nudges his shoulder.

“Not that it takes much to do that,” he holds the cold can to his throbbing head. “It’s either that or he is calling his damn girlfriend the whole time.”

The sickeningly sweet high school sweethearts had the tendency to make everyone around them more than a little bit nauseous, but Finn really took that up to eleven whenever he got drunk. There was being a sappy drunk, and there was Finn Collins, whispering ‘I love you’ into the phone like there was no tomorrow.

“I like Raven, but she has got to stop doing that,” his sister rolls her eyes, looking scarily like him as she does it. “No wait, Finn has to stop drunk dialing her.”

Sometimes he really worries about how much like him his sister turned out to be, with her sarcasm and her terrible language – and her serious problem with being in a serious relationship. Damn, he really rubbed off on the kid.

“You need a new band, Bell,” O continues, taking the can of Coke from his hand. “These idiots are going to end up leading you into an early grave.”

Yeah, she’d said this before, and he’d brushed her off dozens of times. He knows now that his sister is right. It feels like his head is actually going to explode if he spends any more time rehearsing with these guys. He isn’t sure if it’s actually possible for his head to explode – he’s just a lowly mechanic, what does he know anyway – but still.

Right now his head is pounding so badly that he’d sooner take one of the power tools from work to it than rehearse with the Clown Brigade ever again. Which sucks, because he needs the outlet his drumming provides – it is a whole different kind of banging.

“Just tell me before my hair goes gray,” he takes his first sip of the cool soda and sighs happily. “I don’t think I could pull off that look.”

Avoiding the real subject seems like a good idea, because while he is seriously considering giving up on the band, he knows that there aren’t actually any better options around. He’d sooner let his head explode than play some stupid cover of Britney fucking Spears or whatever star teenage girls listen to. Oh God, it won’t be boy bands, right?

“Oh, by the way, my friend is coming,” O has dropped the topic too easily.

“Which friend?” he actively acts like a dick. “I mean, is it the same girl from last month?”

Octavia is notorious for making new friends quickly, but not for being able to keep them around for very long. His sister just likes new things all the time, and she has yet to find a friend who can keep up with that. He wonders if such a person exists.

“Her name is Clarke,” his sister ignores his jackass comments, as usual.

“A girl named Clark?” he just has to make it worse.

“Like our parents were good at the naming thing, Bellamy,” Octavia inherited her inner bitch from him. “Also, it’s your fault I’m named after some ancient chick.”

He happens to think that Octavia is a pretty kickass name, and not just because he was the one who chose it for his little sister. She gets to be named after three seriously kickass women from Roman history – and an effects pedal made for Jimi Hendrix, which was something he didn’t even know at the time, and Octavia would only resent him for if she knew. Still, he stands by his choice – for a five-year-old, he was damn smart.

“There is a car type called Octavia,” there she goes on that rant – again.

“I’m sure it’s a great car,” he tries to appease her by being an ass.

“Screw you,” his sister jumps up at the sound of the doorbell.

Looks like the infamous Clarke is there. Maybe this one will actually last.

Yeah, right.

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

Octavia had not mentioned her hot older brother until very recently. No, wait, that was a lie. Her friend had told her about basically being raised by him since she was maybe thirteen or fourteen, but when she got that out of the way, the topic of Bellamy Blake was quickly forgotten. She always wondered how Octavia could love the guy so much; yet never mention him to any of her friends.

And then she saw him – and she knew.

Bellamy Blake is sex on a stick, and he is just her type. Bellamy is dark, tall, and completely gorgeous, with messy hair and mischievous dark eyes that won’t stop looking in her direction. It is a lethal combination, and she expects that many a friend of Octavia’s has already succumbed to that particular temptation.

“You must be Clarke,” he grins at her from a distance.

“And you must be the older brother,” she responds in kind. “Bellamy, right?”

She is playing it perfectly cool, trying really hard not to stare at the jeans slung low on his hips, and the way he’s shoved a couple of drumsticks in his back pocket – he’s a musician too? Fuck, that is definitely going to be a problem, because if there’s anything that gets her nethers excited, it’s a man who knows how to play an instrument.

“That’s right, Princess,” he drawls, leaning against the wall.

He appears every bit the condescending asshole, and yet she finds herself seriously tempted to push him against that wall and make him use his mouth for much more lofty goals. He looks like he’d be good at it too, six-o’clock shadow scraping over the sensitive skin of her thighs and that wicked tongue all over her. He looks like he could make her forget about the men that came before. He looks like he’d enjoy making her scream his name at the top of her lungs. She has no doubt she’d enjoy that too.

But he’s her friend’s brother, and she is not going to do that to Octavia. They only just started being proper friends, and it would be a super shitty thing to do to the other woman, to start hitting on her brother the second she was invited over. She’s here to see Octavia, not her sex on a stick brother – no matter how badly she’d like to get her hands all over that body. Her hormones are not the boss of her.

“So, Octavia,” she deliberately ignores Bellamy. “Are you aware that there’s someone being murdered in your garage? ‘Cause that’s what it sounded like.”

The laughter coming from her friend makes her feel a little more at ease, especially since Bellamy starts rubbing his head as if the noise is getting to him. Octavia seems to agree with her verdict, and with that background noise, their intentions to actually study this time go right out the window. They’ll ace the damn test anyway.

God, they’re only sophomores but they’re already so over some of the college drama – summer is close and they won’t have to deal with all of that bullshit then. After Tavia started dating Link, things just got really messy really fast – and she still hasn’t told her brother about it, believing he’d flip and cause more of a stir than Link’s entire frat. It seemed impossible at the time, but now that she has met the elusive Bellamy, she knows that her friend was one hundred percent right about this.

“Fine, I’ll quit the damn band,” Bellamy raises his hands to the sky. “I’ll go kick out the losers. O, you can figure out a band that would appreciate my talents.”

Octavia sticks out her tongue at her brother, while Clarke just enjoys how good the view is when the guy walks away – shame he knows it a little too well. He has a nice ass – a shame that he is an ass as well.

“Did he actually call me Princess?” she asks Octavia as soon as Bellamy is out of earshot.

“Guess he’s really into you,” Octavia smirks. “He only gives nicknames to his favorites – not that he hasn’t had a lot of those. My brother’s kind of a whore.”

That part doesn’t seem to bother Octavia too much, but Clarke is sure that Octavia would cut a bitch if her brother ended up getting hurt. This sibling stuff was weird – she’s an only child – but it seems she’s starting to get the hang of the dynamic between these two in particular. They insult each other to their face, but there is no questioning that they’re actually quite close. It makes her think it would have been nice to have a brother.

“So, he’s all about sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll?” she asks, a grin on her face.

“Minus the drugs,” Octavia shrugs, acting particularly casual about this. “Something about being a good role model. Though I still think he has to cut down on the boinking as well if he wants me not to become a total skank.”

With one look, they are lost to laughter. Clarke knows that, for all the toughness she projects, Octavia is a huge softie at heart. And yeah, she likes sex – heck, that’s just one of the things they have in common – and she likes to talk about it to her friends. And why the hell shouldn’t she? The girl gives excellent advice.

“Speaking of sex,” she teases. “How’s dear old Link doing?”

“Fabulous as ever,” Octavia smiles the smile of the satisfied. “Remember how I told you he does that sucking thing? Oh God, it’s like he keeps getter better at that.”

That is just not even fair! Here’s Octavia, looking like the cat who got all the cream, and all she has is the memories of her last fling – last year, over summer break with a nice transfer student who got the hell out of town when summer was over. It was nice and uncomplicated, and the sex was decent enough, but it was nowhere near the passionate affair that her friend is having with the president of the biggest frat on campus.

“Damn it Tavia, stop reminding me it’s been a while,” she doesn’t bother hiding her jealousy. “I run out of batteries so fast I’m picking different places to get them so nobody knows I’m a sex fiend.”

“Did someone say sex fiend?” Bellamy has excellent timing, apparently, reentering the room just when her hunt for a decent orgasm comes up.

Seriously, that is not mortifying at all. Sure, she firmly believes that Bellamy is only going to find it really hot that she’s so into sex, but she’d still rather not have the first conversation she has with him be about all the sex she is not having. She was thinking they might work up to that, talk about trivialities first.

“Yeah, my boyfriend,” Octavia just goes straight into more awkward territory.

“Damn it, O,” Bellamy is not amused.

“You asked,” she reminds him none too gently.

Somehow Bellamy has wound up leaning against the wall again. It is almost as if he is deliberately trying to tempt her into licking that patch of skin near his collarbone, as if he is deliberately seducing her into figuring out if there are other things he bangs as well as those drums. She really wants to know, but her friendship with Octavia is like a thousand times more important right now.

Shit, she hasn’t had a friend like this since high school, and to say that her friendship with Wells ended badly was the understatement of the fucking century. She is really hoping that the odds might be in her favor this time, but she isn’t the kind of person who’d take that on faith alone. She is going to be a damn good friend to Octavia, and if she has to stay away from Bellamy to do that, that’s fine by her.

Her nethers can scream all they want – it isn’t happening.

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

Bellamy had actually gathered the courage to call off the damn band. It seemed like the other guys were happy to find something better to do with his time, which just made him wonder why they stuck with it in the first place.

The only problem is that it leaves him with a lot of free time, and he doesn’t have the slightest clue what to do with it. He already spends enough time exercising, and his sister hates it when he hangs around the house too much. So he picks up a couple extra shifts at work and grows increasingly frustrated with his lack of an outlet.

It doesn’t take too long for the aggression to boil under his skin again; simmering with every sharp comment directed his way, with the questions about his heritage and why he never did look like his daddy. His blood turns to lava when his colleagues joke about what they think his sister is like in bed – or in any other convenient location their puny minds can think of. He clenches his fists until the moon shaped crescents in his palms start to bleed. He takes deep gulping breaths and runs to the gym after his shift.

As his fists hit the punching bag in rapid succession, it takes him a while to realize that his fists shape the beat of a familiar song. The pounding is perfectly on point until he can’t take it anymore. Fuck, he needs something.

He is going to need a better distraction if he wants to stay on the right path – no more arrests and no more using. That junk may have mellowed him out a little, but it also made him numb enough to try the craziest shit. He wasn’t a good guy back then – he probably still isn’t a very good person, but at least he’s trying.

And in his most likely vain hopes of sticking with that trend, he stays at home a lot – there is never alcohol at home, especially after he kicked out the band. It is easier to stay away from stupid temptations, even though it can get boring or lonely, and he’s still having some aggression problems – but at least he’s not bothering anyone with that.

O is over at the house a lot – she knows more about his shit than he ever wanted it to, and it makes her get ridiculously protective over him. She’s been talking shit about the boys in band being a bad influence for months now, and while she’s proud that he listened to her – “fucking finally, Bell” – she knows all too well how messed up he can get without the drums as an outlet. It’s either that or sex – and he does not have a regular booty call at the ready. He doesn’t go out anymore, but maybe it’s time.

Even after a few weeks, the girl named Clarke still comes around, pointedly ignoring him in favor of spending more time with Octavia. He hears them chattering several nights a week, topics of discussion ranging from finals to O’s boyfriend to random talk of movies and the latest CD O’s thinking of downloading. Clarke always adds her distinct flair to the conversation, part no nonsense and part dark wit that only manages to make him more interested in the blonde. Shit, if she were any other girl he would be on that so fucking fast – but she’s the best friend O’s had in years.

“We’re ordering pizza,” O shouts one Friday night. “Want any?”

It’s funny how his sister spends most Friday nights at home now. She uses finals as an excuse, but he knows better than that. Damn, he loves the kid.

“Something big with lots of pepperoni,” he shouts from the garage. “And get some garlic bread or something. For you.”

That joke has long since gotten old, but he tries every damn time, because since she got together with that damn frat boy boyfriend of hers, Octavia has refused some delicious food because of garlic. Not that he minds too much – more for him – but if O starts refusing food, he knows a visit from Lincoln is imminent. Ugh.

“Not happening,” O yells from somewhere inside the house. “Clarke, tell my idiot brother how important it is that I stay minty fresh tonight.”

God, it’s been so long since he heard Octavia so exuberant, just hanging on the couch with a friend who wasn’t just there to jump him. It made him hesitant to go out there and disturb the light atmosphere with his ever-dark mood.

“She is meeting Link’s sister tonight,” Clarke joins in on the merriment.

“I’m sure she isn’t going to be checking your mouth that closely, O,” he replies.

A shriek of laughter from what he assumes to be Clarke follows – his sister would not be amused at such a shitty joke. The thud of a pillow sounds and the loud laughter stops, and Bellamy is surprised to find out just how much his heart has lifted just because he managed to make this girl laugh. It’s been a while since he managed to make anyone smile – Octavia is the only person he’s been around anyway.

“You’re an asshole,” his sister still sounds happy as she shouts at him.

He stares at the drums in front of him, sitting on that stupid stool and hesitant to touch anything. The garage isn’t quite soundproof, but most of the noise doesn’t carry inside the house – only some of the neighbors might catch wind of it.

It feels odd to be sitting here alone, without anyone to play with. The boys won’t be coming back – seems like they didn’t care that much after all – and there is no one else with any musical talent. Octavia is quite tone deaf, and for a girl who can dance quite well, she can never stick to playing in a rhythm.

“I know,” he calls to his sister, because she isn’t wrong about him.

Bellamy Blake: asshole. That should be his damn title. He’s managed to alienate himself from at least half of the people at work – the bad apples, so to say – and during his breaks he either listens to music on his iPod or catches up with Raven, who isn’t nearly as intolerable when Finn isn’t around. He told her that, and surprisingly she managed to understand that it was a compliment, coming from him.

Minutes go by as he just sits, mulling over his future in a half-empty garage. Should he start putting everything away? Should he box up the instruments his parents left behind? Is it time to let the guitars and the keys gather dust in some closet somewhere, to let the drums lose their hold over him? Is it time to move on?

When he finds his drumsticks in his hands instead of his pockets, he realizes that he can’t move on. This is too much a part of him, and not having a band doesn’t mean he has to stop playing completely. There might be something better out there for him.

“Play me something,” a woman’s voice near him, and he looks up, surprised.

Clarke has found him, closing the door behind her and leaving them alone together for the first time. He knows that this is a terrible idea, but he has always liked flirting with danger, playing with fire – and even with burnt fingers he could still play. And he’s seen that look in her eyes. He knows that he is not alone in this.

“Playing by myself isn’t all that fun,” he teases.

“So you always have to play with someone else?” she catches on to his flirtatious words.

Bellamy laughs then, finding it stunningly easy to interact with her without his sister there as a buffer – or more like a chaperone. A part of him is hoping that she will offer herself as someone he can play with, because he’s been thinking about how those long blonde hairs would look on his pillow. They’d be fanned out like a halo surrounding her sweet face, as she pulled him closer into her body.

His fantasies don’t end there, but that is not something he should think too much about now that they are essentially alone. He cannot afford a slip – he will not let himself be the cause of another broken friendship. Goddamn, his sister deserves so much better than the lousy brother she has.

“Playing alone is a little selfish,” his mouth runs away with him, dazed by the sight of her smile. “Playing with more than two can be a crowd.”

She laughs again, and the sound is just as beautiful in person as it was half a room away.

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

He is flirting rather shamelessly, and she is loving every damn minute of it. She’s been interested in Bellamy Blake ever since she first met him and he looked like all of her naughty fantasies come to life. She has managed to avoid temptation thus far, but she finds that it is becoming more and more difficult not to seek him out.

This very moment, Octavia is calling her boyfriend, and Clarke is sneaking out into the garage to flirt with her best friend’s brother. She knows that she’s a terrible friend. Oh damn, she is so aware of that.

So because she really likes Tavia, and she doesn’t want her friend to find her on top of Octavia’s brother, she is going to try not to let this get out of hand. She can try to keep talking about music and drums and the half a dozen chords she still remembers from her brief stint as a guitar player. She can do this.

“Hold on,” a beat-up acoustic catches her eye. “I might remember a few chords.”

“You offering to play with me, Princess?” Bellamy has exactly the right voice for this kind of double entendre; dark, and dripping with honey and sensual promises.

Damn him. Damn him. Fuck him – no not fuck him, that’s the problem. Her nethers are fucking screaming for her to just mount him already, and her head is telling her that her hormones should not be allowed to call the shots and ruin a promising friendship.

“Bellamy,” she tries to sound stern, instead she finds herself pleading.

There is a moment of silence, during which she really tries to catch her breath – she sounds like she’s been out on a run, and he hasn’t even touched her. Their eyes meet and she knows that there is nothing more to say. He wants her at least as much as she does him, and no matter their misgivings, this will happen eventually. Something will happen between the two of them eventually – so why not now?

She does not know who reaches out first, but before she knows it she and Bellamy are completely intertwined. Her arms are pulling his face closer to hers, their kiss a passionate mimicry of the intimate dance they want to be performing.

His hands are not gentle as they settle on her ass, hoisting her up against his body – and Jesus Christ, he lifts her so easily! She wraps her legs around him so she can rub against him more effectively, the heat building in her body so rapidly that she would have no problem with shedding all her clothes right here in the garage.

He stumbles briefly when he moves them in the direction of the wall, music stands full of sheet music crashing to the floor. The mess is immediate, but she couldn’t care less about that when Bellamy’s mouth has moved to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and he’s nibbling on her skin like he never wants to stop.

Damn he is good at that. So good at that.

It is too easy to ruck up his shirt and to stick her eager hands underneath, finally getting an opportunity to touch his bare skin. Her nails dig in ever so slightly, and the resulting groan coming from his lips makes her feel so damn powerful.

“God, Clarke,” Bellamy sounds absolutely wrecked, and she loves it.

There is a proud smile on her face as she pushes him away long enough to pull his shirt off completely, leaving him half-naked, facing her hungry gaze. Damn, it has been too long since she’s been with a real person, and not just her battery-operated boyfriend replacement. And now she’s desperately eager, running her hands over Bellamy’s heating skin. And she wants, oh, how she wants…

Maybe there are some remnants of a joke in her mind, something about drums and banging, but she is too distracted to care about jokes and anything else that might be happening outside of this room. The world could fall apart, the fucking zombie apocalypse could start, and she wouldn’t notice or give a shit.

“Bellamy,” she whines as he just has to take his damn time.

He is already half-naked, and she is still mostly clothed, even though the buttons on her tank top are scattered on the floor and his hands are so close to being inside her jean shorts – the heat of summer approaching was bad enough without Bellamy there to fuel her fire.

“Patience, Princess,” he reminds her, admiring the marks he’s leaving on her skin.

“It’s overrated,” she pouts.

Since he doesn’t seem too inclined to take action, she decides to get some of the power back herself, rubbing her overheated body against his own, feeling the hardness in his pants grow with every touch. Ah yes, God that’s good. It’s been so long since she has felt this powerful, this able to bring a strong man to his damn knees.

“Damn you’re beautiful,” he says it absentmindedly, as if he doesn’t even know that he’s saying it out loud, for her to hear.

She is lucky he’s been carrying her, ‘cause her knees are a little weak. He’s just so damn gorgeous in his unguarded moments, eyes taking in her every move.

“Pizza guy is here,” a yell sounds from the outside. “I need money.”

Octavia! Shit! How could she totally forget about her best friend? Bad person, Clarke!

“Fuck,” she curses. “Quick, put me down.”

It doesn’t take Bellamy long to put her down on her shaky legs. She trembles as she tries to fix whatever she can – her shirt ruined and the room a mess. How is she going to go back out there with her hair a mess, her lips swollen and the neckline of her shirt forever altered? There is no way Octavia can see this, see the state she’s in – her friend is smart enough to relate that to her brother. Seriously, who else is near to give her multiple hickeys? Damn Bellamy and his possessive tendencies.

“I’ll be right there,” Bellamy shouts at his sister.

“A little help here,” she panics. “I can’t go out there with a torn shirt and hickeys all over my damn chest. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Possessiveness should not be a damn turn-on, that’s for sure. He is not a cavemen and she will not be hoisted over his shoulder and carried to his cave – but damn if she doesn’t want Bellamy Blake to put his hands all over her again, hickeys included – only she knows that he won’t be very keen on repeating this particular mistake. They gave in once and almost fucked it all up.

“Feel free to return the favor, Princess,” his dark eyes promise that there will most certainly be a next time. “But don’t worry. Just borrow one of O’s shirts. Tell her you tore or stained yours or whatever. Just pick something that covers those up.”

With that last sentence, he runs a finger over the marks he left, seeing patterns where she just sees love bites. Her skin must crave his touch again, because she can feel herself leaning into him without as much as a thought. Damn it!

“Where’s the money, Bell?” Octavia shouts from somewhere in the house.

“Patience is a virtue, O,” Bellamy responds, righting his shirt for the last time before opening the door that leads to the rest of the house.

The ass dares to wink at her on his way out, and she is left to watch him walk away – he struts like someone who has just gotten some, and she hates him a little for that. Damn him and his drums and his low-slung jeans and his eyes and that damn mouth.

“Clothes, right,” she mutters when she hears the siblings arguing over the tip.

Before Tavia figures out that she hasn’t seen her in like half an hour, she rushes upstairs and hopes she and Octavia are similar enough in size that she can pull this shit off without rousing too much suspicion. They’re pretty much the same height, so maybe this might actually work.

As she stares into the mirror, trying to make sure that the shirt she’s picked actually covers up all the love bites, she realizes once again that she is the shittiest friend. Really, Octavia deserves so much better than her.

But then she sees the glow in her cheeks and the grin that keeps trying to appear, and she realizes that she is actually happy. And she knows what that means.

This isn’t over.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two sneaky lovers and a clueless sister. Oh, the fun.

PART TWO:

_Most great records really start with the drums_ – Billy Corgan

_Most great relationships start with the drums, or the drummers_ – Clarke Griffin

 

The first time she purposefully comes by when Octavia is out, is one random afternoon barely a week or so later. His sister has classes and won’t be there for at least another hour, yet he finds Clarke on the doorstep with a sly grin on her face.

“Hello there, Princess,” he drawls, not unhappy to see her.

She doesn’t even pretend that she is here to see his sister – she enters the house without so much as another word. He can’t pretend that he hasn’t been thinking about her pretty much non-stop since their… moment in the garage. He gets distracted from the sweet bike he’s working on, remembering how she rubbed against him, or the way her lips parted on a gasp. It’s like his mind is all Clarke, all the time.

He is surprised that Octavia hasn’t picked up on it yet – his sister is usually pretty damn perceptive, especially when there is something going on with him. Usually her freaky knowledge of his actions and whereabouts completely freaks him out – but now that the opposite situation is happening, it’s even freakier.

But then again, what can he say about freaky when his sister’s best friend appears to be seducing him – again? Well, to be fair, last time she wasn’t doing it on purpose – but this time appears to be different. Her hair is down in golden waves, and she’s wearing a tight top that reveals the remnants of the marks he left the last time. Her legs are tan and seem like they go on for fucking miles. She is actually trying to kill him – because there is just no more oxygen going to his brain at this point.

“Nothing to say now?” Clarke is outright taunting him.

“Fuck, Clarke,” is just about all he can manage to say.

“That’s the idea,” she replies with a smirk so wicked he almost groans at the sight.

Damn it, he had a whole list of reasons why starting up anything with her would be a bad idea, and he would be able to list at least some of them if he wasn’t so damn distracted by her. Right now, all he can think of is how soft her skin was last time, and how her mouth moved with his – and he wonders if things would be even more explosive this time around.

His curiosity is definitely going to get the best of him.

“We have at least an hour before your sister’s home,” Clarke has planned this well.

“That’s not gonna be enough,” he warns her, “but it will do for now.”

She actually looks skeptical at that, and he cannot believe that she’s never met a guy who took his time getting her all hot and bothered, a guy who would draw it out as long as he could, playing her body like the finest instrument. Damn, he has a list of fantasies a mile long, just about her and what they could do together – and an hour is barely gonna be enough time to get started on the first few points on that list.

“Big plans?” she asks, obviously trying to sound like she is in control here.

“Oh yeah,” he smirks proudly, watching her face flush.

Like an ass, he just wants to keep pulling her metaphorical pigtails, watching her flush and stammer and stumble over her words. He likes the idea of her being even remotely as out of depth as he is – Clarke is just turning shit upside down for him. Shit, has he ever talked to a girl before inviting her up to his bedroom? Seriously, if a girl came to his house and he was alone, he never bothered to wait.

What is up with him talking and flirting with her? Oh, right, he actually likes her. Likes her as a person, not just in his bed. He loves that she gets along with his sister and he doesn’t wanna fuck that up, no matter how badly he wants to have Clarke on every flat surface in this damn house. And maybe a couple not so flat ones.

“So, where’s your bedroom?” she gathers up the courage to ask.

“You don’t want to give the garage another go?” he teases.

He is fully aware that he is an asshole, and he would not blame her if she told him that to his face this time. It is a stupid test, one he knows that she can easily beat – but many a girl has been discouraged because he didn’t suddenly start being nicer after they made out once. Bellamy knows he’s an asshole, and while he can try to be more appropriate from time to time, he is never going to be Prince Charming.

And his Princess needs to be aware of that.

“I think we can manage plenty of banging upstairs,” Clarke can hold her own.

His approval of that comment shows in his ridiculous grin. Damn, this girl is just so much more than he ever thought she was, and he’s more than a little intrigued with every part of her. Heck, he’s even interested in her mind – God, he knows that makes him sound like a complete asshole. He is just enough of a douche to be superficial about who he is with. But while Clarke is completely gorgeous, that wasn’t what drew him to her. It was the sound of her laughter, and the way she joked with his sister.

“After you, Princess,” he speaks.

“If only you’d actually tell me where I’m going,” she raises an eyebrow.

“The master bedroom,” he grins, leading her up the stairs. “Octavia gets the attic all for herself, but I get the largest bedroom. First door on the left.”

As she walks up the stairs, his eyes are focused on how her hips move – she has got to be doing that on purpose. Like the fool he is, he almost trips over his own feet as he tries to navigate the stairs while looking at Clarke’s amazing ass.

“You okay there?” she shoots a look at him over her shoulder.

She has no problem with mocking him, and he is too busy salivating to feel too much like a fool. She has entered his room and he follows quickly, locking the door behind them in case Octavia gets home early and decides to see what he is up to.

Only fifteen minutes later – give or take – he wonders about his earlier words about an hour not being long enough. He’s had her hovering on the edge of orgasm for a good five minutes now, and she is so desperate that he can’t stick with his hour plan. After all, nobody ever said they could only do this once in that hour!

“Damn it Bellamy,” Clarke is fed up with the teasing.

“Say please,” he grins, having already decided to just give in to her.

The sound coming from Clarke’s mouth is most similar to a growl, but it turns into a load moan when he thrusts deep inside her again, her left leg up against his shoulder to give him a better angle. And the angle is damn good, because her hands are clenched in the sheets as he sets a steady rhythm with his thrusts.

“Bellamy,” she moans as she falls over the edge.

That has got to be the hottest damn thing he has ever heard – no one can blame him for coming very soon after that. So maybe that was less than his usual stamina, but Clarke moaning his name as she loses it is a great reason to let go.

“They were right, you know,” she is still breathing heavily.

“Who was right about what?” he has no idea what this is about.

Their bodies are still intertwined, her leg moving back down to keep her a little more comfortable. He is sweating, and so is she, some of her hair stuck to her skin. God, she is still so fucking beautiful. Maybe in a minute he’ll be ready for round two, during which he’ll be sure to make her come at least twice before even entering her.

“People,” Clarke is smiling. “Being right about drummers being good at banging.”

The laughter that follows is just as good as the mind-blowing sex.

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For some reason, Bellamy really seems to love it when she rides him. And none of her previous boyfriends were really into her being on top, so it’s still new to her and she doesn’t know if she’s any good at it – but Bellamy moans and grips her hips a little tighter, so she’s probably doing a decent job. And it feels pretty good for her as well, being the one in control, and doing whatever makes her feel best.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy has a tendency to curse when he comes.

“Again?” she teases, barely catching her breath enough to speak.

This is not the first time they had sex tonight – she thinks that they’re either on round four or five. She kinda lost count at some point. But it’s getting late and Octavia’s having a sleepover with her boyfriend, and that means that it is Clarke and Bellamy time. It’s rare enough for them to need to make the most of it.

“I think we’ve exhausted ourselves enough,” he must regret that as soon as he says it.

“Oh thank God,” she lays a hand on his chest. “I’m beyond exhausted. I just wanna stretch out on the couch and watch a movie. Something cheesy.”

She knows that he is just not the romantic movie kind of guy, but some random action flick with a lot of explosions will work as well. She can mock the science and maybe have a beer or just eat something. She’s starving after the workout she had.

“With food,” Bellamy appears to agree with her.

At this point, she could probably eat a whole damn horse. It is probably not considered attractive to stuff your face in front of the guy you’re boning, but she really can’t be bothered to give a shit about that. If he didn’t want to see her eat, he shouldn’t have made her work up such a damn appetite. For food. This time.

They could order some pizza – again – but as much as she loves pizza, it seems like tonight could be a night for something completely different. Variation is the spice of life, or something like that. Also, she has got to stop eating that fatty junk if she wants to keep from having her entire face covered in zits. That’d be really fucking attractive – also, she just really hates the tightness of her skin when she has zits.

“I’m making pancakes,” Bellamy has already decided.

“Just tell me there’s fruit,” she is not going to disagree with that.

It is kinda tempting to just walk downstairs naked, but her best friend does have a key to this house and if something goes wrong between Tavia and Link, naked fun times could easily end up really fucking awkward. Besides, naked cooking is not only incredibly unsanitary, it’s also hugely distracting.

See, no matter how exhausted she is, naked Bellamy is still gonna turn her on.

“Put some clothes on,” she warns him, stealing one of his shirts from the dresser. “I am not going to kiss your booboos if you get burned.”

Well, actually, depending on where the – nope, she is not going there.

“You look really fucking hot in my shirt,” Bellamy watches her dress. “You can keep that one. Hell, you can have all my shirts if you wear ‘m just like this.”

That possessiveness of his? Yeah, that never quite went away, and she really does not mind at all. To be honest, it really turns her on, and she’s kinda possessive over him as well – to the point that she’d left multiple marks of her own that caused him to get quite creative with his sister’s concealer. Their skin tones were similar enough for it to almost work, not that the guys at the garage would be able to see the difference.

“Stop talking,” she takes a deep breath. “Now go make me food before I starve.”

“Yes ma’am,” he salutes her – still naked.

Fucking hell that is just not helping at all! There are enough images of naked Bellamy in her mind to fill a fucking photo album, and it is going to be seriously difficult to go back to her battery-operated boyfriend when he decides he’s had enough of her.

Because while it may seem like she’s carefree and only treating this as a fling, she actually likes the idiot. Sure, he’s ridiculously good in the sack, but he makes her laugh so hard that her sides hurt. That is a damn rare quality, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

She is at a point where just about anything he does is hot, and it all adds up to a stupid crush that she should just discourage already.

“Come on Princess,” he is dressed now, wearing a shirt and boxers. “Your dinner awaits.”

“Is it still dinner when consumed after eleven PM?” she wonders.

Not as if she cares, though. It’s just another random thought that should not have been spoken aloud. Bellamy seems amused though, and contemplative.

“It’s pancakes,” he ponders as they head towards the kitchen. “I’m sure some cultures would disapprove of calling those dinner.”

Of course, them being the ridiculously competitive people that they are, this turns into a huge discussion about different cultures and differences in foods. She insists that some cultures usually call pancakes dinner, and he offers up some interesting thoughts about foods he’d learned about from his Filipino grandma. And then she flicks a blueberry at his face.

Yeah, not a very smart decision, it turns out. Not only does Bellamy have excellent aim, he’s also a lot closer to the supplies. She can hold her own for a little while, but that only lasts so long when she’s starving.

“We didn’t ruin all the food, did we?” she questions him.

“Nah, we’re good,” Bellamy offers her the first completed pancake. “Ladies first.”

The food looks delicious, and the proud grin on his face makes it even better. Bellamy just looks so happy, and she loves that look on him.

“What a gentleman,” she teases.

“Nope,” he disagrees, still grinning. “Next time it’s your turn to cook.”

Maybe he should rethink that, because while she is not a complete disaster in the kitchen – she knows all anyone ever needs to know about herbs – there is a reason why she mostly eats take-out. She just gets so damn impatient with the food, and it just feels like there are much better uses of the time spent cooking. Like…. Studying for her chem final, finding a summer job, or being with Bellamy.

Lately it’s mostly been that last one.

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His fingers beat an absentminded rhythm on the table as he checks the reviews of the movies currently playing in theaters. Clarke mentioned this flick about time-travel that sounded like something he wanted to see, but he forgot all about the damn title when she took off her shirt.

What? He’s a guy! He can only use one head at a time!

“You look happy,” his sister interrupts his thoughts.

“That’s ‘cuz I am,” he rolls his eyes at her and looks at the words in front of him again.

It can’t be the first three movies, because none of the reviews have mentioned the concept of time-travel. When he figures this shit out, should he ask Clarke to go see the movie with him? It was her idea after all. She thought of it.

But did she think it was a thing for him to do alone, or… Oh God. He is in trouble.

“You’ve been a lot calmer lately,” Octavia continues. “It’s a good look on you.”

Did his sister actually just compliment him? That is sure to draw him out of his Clarke-induced ponderings. Octavia and him, they just do not interact that way. They tease each other, and he torments her mercilessly – like big brothers are supposed to do – and she nags him into taking better care of himself. They do not speak of love, even though he knows he’d walk through fire to save her and she’d take a bullet for him.

“Better than your angst bullshit,” she continues.

“That’s the sister I know and tolerate,” he rolls his eyes fondly.

Octavia sticks her tongue out at him in return, like the immature brat she is even now, and resists his urge to tousle her hair. She hates that so much – which is why he does it, of course – but right now just does not seem to be the right time for it.

“So, what did you do?” O will just not let this go.

“What did I do for what?” he pretends not to understand. “Or for who? Whom?”

So grammar isn’t his best quality, whatever. He’s got other qualities that more than make up for it. And no, he isn’t talking about anything dirty this time.

“Did you join a new band?” his sister asks.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “There’s no good bands in Arktown. All these bands are just doing One Direction covers, or something. That’s never gonna happen.”

He didn’t really look into it that much lately – he’s pretty content screwing around with the instruments in the garage. And screwing Clarke Griffin in his bed, but that’s something he is definitely not telling Octavia about.

“I don’t know,” his sister is preparing for another joke; he just knows it.

“Oh, just come out with it,” he sighs, exaggerating his annoyance.

It is probably too late to tell her that he only knows who these One Direction guys are – no, he doesn’t know their names – because Clarke went on a rant about boy band culture and the dismissal of teenage girls and their interests. He listens to her, even though he knows nothing about the stuff she is talking about.

“I’m sure you could dance all night to the best song ever,” O is grinning as she delivers what is supposed to be a punch line.

“Is that a thing?” he genuinely does not get it. “Because I’m sure those teenyboppers haven’t even heard the actual best song ever.”

There is a Tenacious D joke on the tip of his tongue, but his sister is probably not going to appreciate it one bit. Maybe if he told it to Clarke, he could get a polite snicker out of her – he’s hoping for more, but he is not counting on it.

“Ugh,” Octavia is the exasperated one this time. “Watch the news or something. Or you know, listen to the radio for once. Keep up with life.”

Wow, it is still so damn easy to rile her, which he loves. This time, he didn’t have to fake ignorance about her topic of choice. Sure, he can now monologue about sexism in the music industry – Clarke – or about unfair grading – Clarke again – or even about pancakes. She just, she knows how to talk about everything, it seems.

“My priorities are not with the latest boy band chart toppers, I’m afraid,” he quips.

Lately, it appears that his priorities lie with Clarke. That is, whenever he doesn’t work or when he is not hanging out with his sister. It is a slippery slope to find himself on, spending all of his free time with one girl, with no regrets. He doesn’t even think about finding someone else – and that is probably bad.

“Oh, go bang a drum,” his sister rolls his eyes at him before walking away.

Maybe he should – maybe he really should find another band to play with, just in case Clarke is done with him at some point. He can’t rely on her company forever, whether it’s in bed or just sitting on the couch, watching a terrible movie.

He’s only been to her dorm once – she has a roommate, and that could get awkward if Octavia comes by – but he wishes he could be there more, just to be in a space that is perfectly Clarke.

Also, her bed smells like her.

Damn it. He has a big problem – and its name is Clarke Griffin.

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She is definitely getting way too invested in this thing with Bellamy. Heck, they went to the movies a few days ago, and she didn’t even get upset when he insisted on paying for everything. He was treating it like a proper date, and she did not object. Which makes her a piece of trash, because she cannot be in a secret relationship with her best friend’s older brother. This has already gotten way out of end.

But still, she is not going to end this. She doesn’t want to end this.

And because she feels so guilty for being a part of something that is undoubtedly going to ruin her friendship with Octavia, she turns into what is essentially the closest thing to a Stepford friend. Anything that Tavia needs – she will go get it, with a damn smile on her face the whole time. Because that is the friend that Octavia deserves, the kind of best friend she should have instead of the one she has right now. You know, the one that is banging Bellamy fucking Blake, her best friend’s brother.

Even though it’s not just sex, not for her anyway, she feels so bad about it. Sure, she really likes Bellamy – has strong feelings for him that she does not wish to dissect at this point in time – but keeping Octavia in the dark is a pretty shitty thing to do. Besides, when Bellamy gets sick of her, she will still be Octavia’s friend. And she can’t be rude to Bellamy, or act on the inevitable jealousy she will feel when she sees him with someone else. God, she doesn’t want to think about any of this.

“Let’s go get some ice cream,” she offers to Octavia.

“Oh God yes,” her best friend agrees immediately.

“My treat,” she adds quickly.

It’s the guilt talking, again. She’s paid for everything they’ve done over the last few weeks, from take-out to movies. Really, she is just trying to be the kind of friend that Octavia deserves. And she’s already fucked up so badly.

“What is up with you?” Octavia has already figured it out somehow – she must have. “I mean, did you suddenly come into some money? Did you win the lottery?”

If only. But still, all the money in the world wouldn’t fix this. Should she just tell Octavia instead of trying to bribe her with treats? Sure, Tavia might hate her, but if she finds out about this in any other way – heck, she could catch them at it – that would actually be worse. That’s it – she really has to tell Octavia, before this gets worse. Before she does something stupid and tells Bellamy how she feels.

“I’m a terrible friend,” she blurts out, not knowing where else to start.

“Oh shut it,” Octavia rolls her eyes in a move that is so very similar to Bellamy’s. “If anyone’s terrible, it’s me. I’ve been all over Link since I finished finals. We have not spent nearly enough time together. And that’s all my fault.”

No, this just makes it worse.

“You’re not the only one,” she lets the words slip past her lips. “I mean, he’s not really my boyfriend. But I really like him and we do spend a lot of time together.”

If she takes a deep breath and decides to be honest with herself already, she might eventually be able to admit that she is falling in love with him – with Bellamy. And while Octavia might like the idea that Clarke has finally found someone who makes her smile, she probably won’t like it so much when she finds out it’s her damn brother. Her best friend is sleeping with her brother. Octavia will hate her. She already knows it.

“So that’s why you’re so happy,” Octavia just seems happy for her. “You’re all glowy, I’m assuming that’s from all the great sex. Tell me your boy is great in bed!”

This is not awkward at all. There is no way to share this information without it eventually causing more pain for everyone involved. But how can she tell Octavia that the boy in question is a man named Bellamy Blake? Is there a right way to say this?

“He is,” she briefly admits, just because it’s the honest truth.

“You’re almost as stingy with the details as Bell,” Tavia is not happy with being kept out of the loop. “I swear he has a thing going with someone. He’s been downright cheery lately – I caught him humming once. Bellamy. Humming!”

So she actually makes him happy? She grins like a fool, because the idea of Bellamy in that big house, humming to himself because he is finally happy – that is something she would love to see for herself. He’s been through a lot of shit, some of which he’s told her about, and some of which she guessed. But now he finally gets to life the happy life he deserves. Or not, because she does not want his sister to hate him.

Which is what will happen in three, two, one….

“Wait a second,” the dots appear to be connecting now.

Like a true idiot, she stays silent. She cannot say the words herself, not if that means that everything comes out. God, why did she even think about telling Octavia? It was a fucking awful idea, and she should have just kept her damn mouth shut. Maybe Bellamy would have told her eventually, or they could have told Octavia together.

“What the fuck is going on?” Octavia crosses her arms. “You and my brother? Tell me that two plus two means five, because that’s how this is adding up. Only you two are pretty much perfect for each other. Huh. It almost makes sense now.”

Perfect for each other? That sounds like a bunch of hokum. Sure, she might be able to understand the matchup theoretically – seeing as they are very different, yet so similar at the core. But still, a perfect match? That seems to be taking it too far. It brings to mind romance and candlelight and a future together that she believes they do not have. Any second now, Bellamy will realize that she is not worth his sister’s wrath. After all, he’s probably just in it for the sex. Right?

“How long have you two been dating?” Tavia asks.

Dating? Were they dating now?

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“How long have you been dating my best friend?” hurricane Octavia is in the house.

And hurricane Octavia is at its peak, because somehow she has figured out that he has been keeping a big secret from her – and that he and her best friend have been hiding it for a long time. Her temper is rising fast, and this will not be pretty.

“What are you talking about?” he thinks to avoid it a little while longer.

“I talked to Clarke,” his sister is not going to let this go. “I know, okay. Now tell me how long the two of you have been dating!”

Well, shit. He should have known that his sister would figure shit out eventually – she is too smart not to see through the bullshit he’s been spouting on the regular. Only she appears to be getting it wrong, which is just not like Octavia. She is usually right on the nose about every damn thing. But this? It’s just wrong. Him and Clarke, dating? He is sure that the Princess thinks they’re just having fun.

If he did want more – which he does – he is not sure if she would agree.

“Define dating,” he is not sure if he is stalling or if he’s actually curious.

“I’ve heard it all, Bell,” Octavia is back to her bitchy self. “The pancakes, the movie date you never called a date. Just grow the fuck up and admit it. Make it official, and tell me how long this has been going on behind my fucking back!”

Wait, what? Official? Has Clarke been saying that they were dating? Because yes, he’s tried to spend more time with her, not just in his bed – or very rarely in hers. But he didn’t think she actually noticed or cared about that all that much.

“Just after I quite the band,” he shrugs and admits some of this. “Neither of us meant for this to happen, but I really do like her, O. You really have great taste. Fuck. Sorry, I’m an ass. But I know that if you made her choose between you or me, she’d choose you in a heartbeat. And that’s one of the things I like most about her. That and some things I should not be talking about to my impressionable young sister.”

He is full of shit, because most of the things he likes about Clarke are the kind of things that make him sound like the kind of sappy idiot he never thought he’d be. But her loyalty to his sister, and the way her entire face lights up when she smiles, and the way that she can get so passionate about the most random subjects – shit that is miles beyond her just being exceptional at turning him on.

“Shut up, moron,” O sees right through him again. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

So what if he is? It’s too damn late to deny any of this, and that includes his growing feelings for his sister’s best friend. Now that the realization process has been completed, it would just be pointless to deny that he is head over fucking heels for Clarke Griffin – even though he still worries that she’s only in it for a fun time.

“Duh,” he shrugs, pretending to be casual about it.

“So fucking tell her, you idiot,” Octavia raises her hands to the heavens. “I will buy her one of those stupid shirts that says ‘my boyfriend’s the drummer’ on it and you two can live happily ever after. And Link and I will finally have people to double date with.”

The grin on his face at the thought of Clarke in that t-shirt – just in that t-shirt, and nothing else – is ridiculous. But then the last part of O’s little speech hits him and he is less than amused. Sure, he knows about the boyfriend, and has even met him in passing a few times. But he is so not interested in watching her sister be all over a dude – he’d rather gouge his eyes out with a rusty spoon, thanks.

“No double dates,” he warns her.

“I have to check if you’re treating my bestie right,” Octavia looks at him pointedly.

Oh, he knows that she is this close to giving him one of her infamous speeches about what she will do to him if he hurts her friend, and he is ready to roll his eyes at her and be an asshole about it. Still, he also knows that she would give Clarke the exact same speech about him, and while he thinks that it’s ridiculous his kid sister is acting like mama bear, he kinda likes that he has someone who looks out for him.

But he can’t show that to his sister, of course.

“She’s had no complaints so far,” his lecherous side makes an appearance.

“Damn it Bellamy,” his sister shoves him. “Now I need brain bleach. Gross, dude!”

Yeah, he’s still got it!

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The asshole invited her over to his place to hang out and play some stupid videogames together. She’d been expecting the inevitable dumping to happen a lot sooner, but now she is stuck screwing around with this pretend guitar while Bellamy once again looks like a rock God – he’s wearing those damn jeans again, slung low on his hips.

Fuck him. How dare he suggest playing Rock Band?!

“Yes,” he hisses as he manages yet another high score.

“I think you’ve got an unfair advantage here,” she teases. “Us mere mortals can’t even hope to pull off what you did just now.”

Why is he still drawing this out? Why is he here, playing this game with her when they could be having really hot break-up sex? Because she is sure he asked her over here just so he could break up with her – Octavia found out and it’s probably not a good idea to fuck things up any more than they already have been. Like, her friend wouldn’t ask her brother to dump her, but since Bellamy’s not a relationship kinda guy, she’s sure that she has just become more hassle than a roll in the sheets with her is worth.

“You calling me a rock God, Princess?” he grins at her and her heart starts pounding heavily in her chest. “Because I can work with that.”

Damn him! Did he somehow figure out her serious musician kink? Because it is just unfair of him to use that against her when he’s probably just looking for a no strings fling. She doesn’t need help – she already wants him too much.

“I just know that you’re good at banging things,” she gives in to the urge to flirt with him.

Bellamy is wearing a tight shirt that clings to his muscles, and it’s the jeans and the drums and those hands that have touched every inch of her skin. No one can blame her for being horny and distracted – and since she’s a sore loser, she can’t let him keep winning. She can’t let him win everything, after all.

So she flirts, and she pulls down her top just a little, just so there’s a hint of cleavage – his face always gets drawn there whenever there’s anything on display. She leans forward a little, pretending to be engrossed in the next song, a smug grin playing on her face as she watches him miss. Yes, this is a game she knows how to play. She’s good at this, and he knows it. Now he can be the distracted one.

“Clarke, you’re killing me,” he warns, his voice tight.

“Do something about it, then,” she taunts, knowing he just wouldn’t be able to let this taunt go. “Or is there something you wanted to say first?”

As usual, Bellamy does not fail to rise to the occasion – pun intended. She licks her lips, intending to make this the best fuck he’s ever had. If he wants to leave her behind, she wants him to remember everything they’ve ever done together. And she wants him to remember her when he’s in his bunk, distracted and desperate for an outlet – that’s when she wants him to remember her soft skin and her clever hands and her wicked tongue. She wants to be seared into his memories forever.

“Fuck,” he curses, another thing that she finds so damn hot about him.

“Yes,” she breathes in return, gently tossing her makeshift guitar to the side.

He is faster than she thought he’d be, because the drum kit is thrown aside before she knows it, and he pushes her flat onto the couch, pressing his full body weight into her as the loud tones of the game continue to play.

“This is not how I planned things to do,” he mourns.

“Well, what was the plan?” she is understandably hesitant to find out the answer.

“We were going to play some games,” he shrugs, stumbling over his words. “And we were going to talk, and I would kiss you. And because Octavia finally knows, I finally get to ask you out on an official date. But you distracted me, you always distract me. You get this grin on your face that has trouble written all over it and it makes me want to take you to bed and never let you go. Do you know how hot you are when you do that?”

The fire below her bellybutton is being stoked by his frank words, and while she is stunned to hear such a speech from him, she is also really fucking impressed. She was preparing for a dumping, but she should have known that Bellamy Blake would never do anything that was expected of him. Damn, she loves that about him.

“Well, I’m waiting,” she grins. “Ask me.”

She likes seeing him flustered, even though he’s pressed her into the couch cushions and his motives are no longer innocent in any way. She can feel that much.

“Wanna go out on a date some time?” he grins down at her, that wicked grin of his promising a wonderful reward if she tells him yes.

“I’ll have to think about that,” she is not going to make this easy.

It is really an invitation for him to convince her with drugging kisses and soft caresses, and he knows it. So when he once again chooses a different both, she tries not to be completely floored by him yet again.

Bellamy presses a soft kiss to her brow, and then one to each cheek, one kiss on the tip of her nose. She giggles, eyes taking in his every move.

“Don’t leave your knight waiting, Princess,” he speaks softly.

“Yes,” she whispers into his ear.

His resulting grin is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

They’re fucking disgusting, that much is for sure.

Like, she knows that she had a small part in making this relationship official – and not just a series of hook-ups that she can’t stand to think too much about – but they have got to cut this out. The flirting is just not subtle at all!

Even in the middle of a mosh pit – she is so fucking glad she has her Hulk of a boyfriend with her to protect her from the madness – her best friend is just so obviously swooning over the drummer that she is debating checking for drool. Clarke is really fucking smart, but sometimes she has to doubt her best friend’s intelligence. Most of those times happen when Clarke stares at Bellamy like he is the best damn thing to happen to her – even though she’s right about that.

“Seriously, Clarke,” she shouts over the music.

“I’m sorry Tavia,” her friend speaks in return. “You know about the musicians thing. I can’t help it if your brother happens to be really good at banging shit.”

Ugh, so gross. But then again, the stupid groupies are even worse. Ever since Bellamy hooked up with an actually decent band, things have changed in the Blake household – and outside of it. One of the changes being that the sounds coming from the garage actually sound like music instead of just random noise, and another less fortunate change meant that Bellamy – her shithead brother – actually had groupies now. Not that he gave a shit about them, being stupidly in love with Clarke still.

“I hate you,” she announces to Clarke.

“I’m like the sister you never had,” the blonde replies with an easy grin.

Sadly, it’s true. Now that Bellamy and Clarke are together – and disgustingly domestic about it – Clarke has turned into a sister as well as a best friend. It’s no longer the same when they talk boys, because ew gross, but Clarke has been a lot happier since Bellamy finally got up the guts to ask her out.

“Hold on, I gotta go deter a groupie,” Clarke pushes her way through the crowd.

She is handling that better than Octavia ever could – seriously, if any of those bitches tried to jump all over Link the way they’re trying to do with Bellamy, her claws would come out. And those are very sharp.

But enough about that. It’s way more entertaining to watch the scene near the stage, where some brunette chick is trying to put her hands all over Bellamy, who is clearly not having any of it. In fact, her brother looks downright uncomfortable with the attention – which is a relatively recent change – until he sees that Clarke is on his way. His grin turns downright predatory, and she is debating averting her eyes from the mating ritual that is about to ensue. But it makes such a great picture.

With Link’s arms wrapped around her, she stares at the blonde in the ‘my boyfriend’s the drummer’ t-shirt and waits for the explosion. God, she loves these idiots.

“Hey Princess,” her brother is predictable as ever.

“Hey Rock God,” her future sister has bestowed a title of her own.

What happens after? Well, let’s just say the brunette realizes rather quickly that the drummer is a stupid ass who’s rather happy to prove he’s not single. And since Clarke still has that musician kink….

As she said before – fucking disgusting. But there’s no doubt that they love each other, and really, that’s what matters. Bellamy and Clarke: Sex, love, and rock ‘n’ roll. 


End file.
